


Bloodlust

by paceisthetrick



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paceisthetrick/pseuds/paceisthetrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character sketch of Roman</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlust

He’d known about his ability long before he could even remember. When he was six he told his teacher he would not leave the room, his piercing green eyes slow-motion bullets, and her compliance reinforced his belief – brought on by a life of privilege – that he was entitled to whatever he wanted.

He’d discovered early on that blood could satisfy his sexual urges but that sex alone could not assuage the bloodlust. He craved the blood of others but social propriety dictating otherwise learned to content himself with the taste of his own. He cut himself with razors and knives and it was as exhilarating as any drug he’d tried. He’d stand naked on the cold bathroom tile in front of the mirror and cut deep into his chest, savoring the warmth of the rivulet that tickled down _down down_ to the floor.

The liquidity of life’s force, the ephemeral state of anti-stasis.

Trapped in the confines of his regimented life, captive to his mother’s will, the red flow was his lifeline, a reminder of his control.

As he aged he paid willing girls a king’s ransom for the greater pleasure of drinking theirs. He frequented the ice cream shops as the girls’ restroom. Sometimes he stabbed them with the unused needle of an unused syringe.

Still, he was completely unaware of his other self, the serpent that lay coiled within, ready to strike. He knew no goodness or evil. He simply was, his position as a Godfrey demanding his every waking hour. He might rebel but he never forgot. Prince that he was he held his family’s honor in the highest esteem, unwilling to form any association that might taint the purity of its name. Ever daring, he was never reckless.

Until he met Peter Rumancek.


End file.
